


Strawberry Lemonade

by beccabecky



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ...i think, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Flirting, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Nonbinary Sleep | Remy Sanders, Other, anyways make more sleepmas fics u cowards, black remy, disgruntled acquaintances to lovers, just in case yall get confused by me describing him as 'dark', thats the only way i can describe it lmao, thomas is a coffee shop employee and remy is one of his regulars, thomas is a human disaster, wbk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccabecky/pseuds/beccabecky
Summary: No, Thomas definitely isn’t having a migraine while at work and absolutely isn’t trying to fruitlessly hide it from his coworker, Patton, or his regular, Remy. Absolutely not.
Relationships: Morality | Patton Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Sleepmas, Thomas Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Thomas Sanders/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	Strawberry Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> saw that there weren't any coffee shop aus for sleepmas on ao3, decided to take matters into my own hands. enjoy

Thomas groaned the moment he got off his break and saw the line in front of the cash register. The shop was filled to brim with college students, all in varying stages of exhaustion. Why did they have to be the _only coffee shop_ on campus? Did his university seriously not understand the fact that all college kids can and will get caffeine in their systems when given the chance to because _they are exhausted?_

Virgil passed him with a sympathetic glance, stretching out his back as he walked to the backroom to get his stuff, presumably. The bastard was leaving early for a doctor’s appointment and making Patton and Thomas man the counter _alone_ during rush hour.

Thomas almost considered taking a shot of caffeine (possibly 7 at this rate) but decided that facing the disappointed face of his manager, Logan, wouldn't be worth it.

So, Thomas dealt with what he got. He slapped on a stiff smile, one that would be considered polite but just unnerving enough that a customer would realize that he was on his last leg, and faced the music.

* * *

"Welcome to Y=MX+Coffee! What can I get you today?" 

“Can I get a small latte with three shots of espresso, please?”

* * *

"Welcome to Y=MX+Coffee, what would you like today?”

“Just give me like, all of your ice chips, I swear I’ll pay for it,”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you ice unless you buy a drink with it, ma’am,”

* * *

"Hi, welcome to Y=MX+Coffee! What can I get you today?" 

“I’d like a strawberry and banana smoothie, please and thank you,”

“Why did you go to a coffee shop for a smoothie?” Thomas muttered under his breath as the customer left into the depths of the crowd.

* * *

"Welcome to Y=MX+Coffee. What can I get you today?" 

“Um, yeah, could I have four cake pops and an iced coffee?” 

* * *

"Welcome to Y=MX+Coffee, what can I get you today?" 

“Can I- uh, have a hot coffee with 7 double shots of espresso?”

“Sir, that amount of caffeine in your system would cause you to overdose,”

* * *

The orders came in and Thomas tried his best to listen to them (mostly to make sure they wouldn’t kill/harm the customers or cause him to possibly be scolded by Logan), but the sentiment was getting him nowhere. 

A headache began to bud at the back of his eyes as the orders began blurring together when they were told to him. It was a miracle that Patton could multi-task and had decent hearing, or else the pair would be hearing a lot more complaints from disgruntled, entitled peers who refused to believe that Patton and Thomas got their order right or jittery caffeine overdosed students who were already on the brink of a breakdown without the need of 14 shots of espresso.

Thomas breathed in a long breath, trying to ignore the numbness in his shoulder and the pain in his head. Have the lights in the shop always been so bright? Why did it feel like his leg was being pricked with needles? Thomas tasted bile at the back of his throat, but soldiered on, taking a cup of water from a very worried Patton and continuing to take orders as he felt the floor sway under his feet ever so slightly. It was _also_ a miracle that he didn’t have any classes after this shift.

Gradually, (and thankfully), the crowd died down. It was 4:00 PM and Thomas had never been more grateful for it.

He stifled a yawn as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a customer approaching. Turning on his customer service voice, he chipperly said, without fully looking at them, "Welcome to Y=MX+Coffee! What can I get-" Thomas's brain then fully recognized who he was talking to. 

"Oh, hi, Remy," Thomas said, dropping the customer service voice and letting loose the brunt of his exhaustion with just a touch of irritation. 

Despite Remy just being one of the regulars around the shop, Thomas always put them in a separate box from the rest of his regulars. In truth, Thomas wasn’t sure why exactly. Ever since he met them, he’d always just seen them as- _different_ from the rest of his customers. He wasn’t sure if it was simply how much of a jerk-wad they could be on a bad day or just how blunt they were without-

Remy raised an eyebrow, their eyes peering over their sunglasses, "Jesus, you look god awful,"

Thomas's eye twitched, "Oh, thank you, I didn't notice," 

"You sure are testy today. Something the matter?"

Thomas jerked his eyes to the cash register, staring at the tiny screen rather than at Remy. "Nothing, absolutely nothing,"

Remy made an affronted gasp, placing their hand on their chest, the dark brown of their hand contrasting their white t-shirt, "What? Oh, come on, Tom-" _Nope_. "-you can trust me!"

Thomas stared silently at them for a moment before speaking, "Yeah, no offense, but I still don't see why it’s necessary for you to… care,” Remy made another dramatic gasp, but Thomas ignored it. Better that than feeding into their drama queen-ness, “Anyways, what can I get you?"

Remy ordered the usual: a large iced latte with three pumps of vanilla, one of the more normal and non-life-threatening orders he’s taken today.

Thomas fed Patton the order and then stood awkwardly in front of Remy, fiddling with the pocket of his apron, trying to fight the urge to move back to his stool behind the pastry display. He’d never hear the end of it from Logan if he sat and ignored a customer, even if it was Remy and even if he wasn’t taking orders at the moment. If he told him he wasn’t feeling well, then probably not, but that would require Thomas to tell his manager that he was sick or had a migraine, which he _didn’t._

Maybe if he said it enough, he could get rid of the pain pulsing through his skull. 

Remy’s eyes scanned his face intently, "Have you been getting enough sleep lately?" They eventually asked, their dark forearms leaning on the counter.

Thomas answered with a short, tense hum, refusing to fully meet their gaze and instead focusing on the door behind them.

"You sure about that, babe?" To say the look in Remy’s eyes was dubious would be an understatement. 

Oh god, when was this going to end?

Thomas smiled, a show that didn't reach his eyes and caused another surge of pain. "I'm sure,"

"Alright then," 

They looked down at the counter as another long beat of silence passed before they piped up again. "Actually, can I get another drink?" 

Thomas felt his face mold into one of confusion. Remy almost never ordered another drink unless they were with a friend, but unless Thomas didn't notice their friends Andy or Emile in the shop, they were on their own at the moment. 

"Sure, what would you like?" Thomas enunciated the best he could without sounding like a try-hard. Goodness, why was talking so difficult right now? It was like there was cotton fluff being shoved down his throat.

Remy scanned the menu above him for a while, before turning their attention back to Thomas, their eyes inquisitive. "What do you suggest?"

Thomas placed his finger on his chin and tilted his gaze up to look at the menu. "Um," He stammered, "The strawberry lemonade's pretty good?"

Remy hummed, "Then I'll get that,"

As soon as Thomas gave Patton the order, he felt his gaze shift back to Remy, who was still leaning on the counter looking at him. "Are you actually trusting my judgment, Remy?" Thomas asked slowly with a teasing lilt in his voice.

If it wasn’t for the darkness of Remy’s skin, Thomas would have assumed they were blushing, "Well, duh. You work here, so why wouldn't I?"

"Awww, Remy, are you finally starting to like me after 3 years of you coming here?"

"Who's to say I didn't before?" Remy countered. "Also, it's been two and a half years since I started coming here, ever since the Starbucks on campus closed," Remy reminded, a bitter note in their tone like a child mourning the loss of a pet fish.

Now it was Thomas's turn to be flustered, "O-oh, I just um- assumed that you, um, didn’t like-"

Remy cut him off before he could embarrass himself, "Then you assumed wrong, Tom," 

Thomas felt his face warm at the soft look in Remy's eyes. Were their eyes always such a deep shade of brown, rich like an almost black coffee? Oh, and he recognized the irony of that statement but ignored it in favor of the question of: how did Thomas never notice this? Thomas then silently realized it was because Remy never took off their sunglasses around him, still looking at them as he did.

But the quiet moment was broken by Patton placing the orders on the counter, giving Thomas a wink before zipping to his spot at the coffee bar and taking out his phone, probably texting his brother, Janus. Thomas cleared his throat, startling Remy immediately out of their weird zoning out session.

Remy stood up and took out their wallet from their leather jacket. Despite it being 77 degrees out, they still managed to wear it by tying it around their waist.

"That'll be 9.25," He said, tapping on the register and watching as Remy slid their card into the chip receiver.

He slid over the drinks to them and held out his hand to tear off the receipt as it was printing out. But in the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Remy pushing back the lemonade over the counter. Thomas chose not to comment, tore out the receipt, and handed it to them.

But it seemed as though Remy wasn’t going to comment on it either, based off the way they nonchalantly shoved the receipt in their pocket and lifted up their latte.

Thomas hesitantly held the lemonade in his hands and felt his eyes widen as he saw Remy begin to leave, sipping on their drink.

"Wait," Thomas blurted out, his words slurring together the slightest bit, "You got _me_ this?"

Remy turned their head. "Duh. Did you think the wind bought it for you?" They fully turned around, placing a hand on their hip.

"N-no, I just thought..." Thomas trailed off, looking down to stare at the drink and _definitely_ not to hide his blushing cheeks.

In three strides, Remy was back in front of the counter. "Thomas," He looked up. "I got it for you because you've looked _way_ better than this, babe,"

Surprisingly, Thomas didn't feel any annoyance at the pet name or at the lame excuse for his “friend” buying him a drink they asked for his recommendation on as if they actually cared about his opinion-

Wait, wait, wait, were he and Remy… friends?

"I- um, thank you?"

Remy chuckled, taking out the crumpled receipt. They then ripped off a part of the receipt and flicked their eyes up to him, "Can I have a pen?"

Thomas mindlessly plucked one from the jar behind the cash register and gave it to them.

They wrote down a string of numbers, softly placing the scrap of paper in his palm as soon as they finished. Then, in a smooth motion, they took off their sunglasses and pushed it up the bridge of his nose, an expression on their face that could only be described as _fond_. Thomas felt the throbbing in his skull subside slightly as the shop darkened.

"Give me a call sometime," Remy said, turning to leave again, "But preferably when you _don't_ look like you're having a migraine." They swung open the door -a gust of sweet summer air blowing through the quiet shop- and gave him one final look. "See ya, Thomas,"

And guessing by the squeal that came from the coffee bar, Thomas supposed that the smile or the bright red blush on his face wasn't exactly the _most_ professional.


End file.
